


One Day, Some Day

by elluvias



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I don't think this'll turn to a multichapter fic, Trans Character, a drabble, but the idea wouldn't leave me so, if you aren't comfortable with that please don't read, mtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elluvias/pseuds/elluvias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some lies were necessary. Though she had been lying for a long time now out of necessity for who else could be King but her? Soon she'd be able to be free and be who she was supposed to. Once they slayed the dragon of course. Then she could step down, stop pretending, and be together with her One as Mahal intended.</p>
<p>Well so long as she didn't have a heart attack first when her hobbit threw himself headfirst into danger.</p>
<p><b>Note:</b> Thorin is mtf in this. If you are not comfortable with that please don't read. Thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day, Some Day

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn't leave me.

She was not who she pretended to be.

It was easy enough to lie when her body had betrayed her at birth, going completely sideways and upside down despite the fact that Mahal had intended for her to be a woman. For if Mahal had not wanted it, then Thorin would not _be_ a woman. It was as simple as that. Mahal had given her the correct soul, it was simply nature that was being contrary and stubborn as Tharkun, and far less reasonable and impressed by Thorin’s own quiet demands to fix itself. She knew it wouldn’t fix itself on her own, but as of yet she knew of no way to actually change what was wrong.

Thorin Oakenshield could bend many things to her will out of sheer stubbornness alone. She was hewn from the oldest of the bloodlines, and she had been told that her temperament was quite like that of her ancestor. Twas a compliment to be compared to Durin himself, especially when regarding her particular brand of stubbornness.

Still she had not wanted nor intended to lie about herself for so long. Back in the days of Erebor she had not been quite so hidden in her manner, much to her grandfather’s irritation. She was quite content to abdicate her position in line for the Throne when her grandfather died, Frerin would make a good king and was secure in his knowledge that Thorin would not play political games to somehow retake the throne once she had given it up. ‘Too honorable’ was what Frerin had said to her teasingly when he had explained he would not allow father to disown her when she came of age. She’d give her word and keep it, content to be a shield maiden.

Except Smaug came and ruined everything. Except Grandfather had been utterly mad and gone to retake Khazad-dum and ruined everything thrice over. Except Azog the Defiler was a bastard and ruined everything.

Thorin could not abdicate, not now, not when Dis was so broken she could not lead. Not when everyone’s eyes seemed to follow her, note when her blasted nephews kept being too young and too stupid to take up their birthright. She hated living a lie, she hated being ‘King’ for she was no King. She was a Queen who could never be a Queen, because her people’s ancient laws could occasionally border on being ridiculously idiotic. But fate was often cruel.

Though the cruelest part was perhaps seeing her One, her beloved One, look at her in confusion wondering if he was attracted or if he wasn’t and what exactly to make of this ‘King Under The Mountain’. The first time she had seen him all she had wanted was to strip him bare and worship every inch of his too soft skin and body, then she also wanted to murder every being who had put the wary exhausted expression on his stupidly kind face or…well had actually seen him. He was hers and she would not share her One…

It was through those irrational ridiculous thoughts that she had insulted him, if only to make him so adverse to her company, to her Company, that he would stay safe in his hobbit hole. He would be fine ensconced in this dwelling…well after she made improvements of course to make certain no orc or warg or thief could get in easily. She’d be able to retrieve him after they conquered the Mountain. She’d be able to woo him with her strength, with her honor, with her everything, and one day they’d marry as Mahal had intended them to.

Though, as Mahal had intended a great many good things to go in Thorin’s life, this too went awry.

There was no way Thorin could articulate the mixture of relief she had that Bilbo had come with her on this Journey and the terror that clawed at her throat as she imagined every single sort of horrible thing that could happen to her soft hobbit. Far more seasoned warriors had died horrific deaths on safer journeys, now she was dragging her One along to face a _dragon_. Could no one blame her for her irritation or her anger at her One, wondering what had possessed him to come in the first place. Gandalf could be persuasive but likely not that persuasive, and Thorin had done her best to be as prickly and unlikeable as she could be.

Then her beautiful bookish sharp tongued idiot saved her life. If she had not had broken ribs, bleeding wounds, and then passed into unconsciousness she would have killed her foolish one for standing between her and the Defiler. Had he not heeded Balin’s story? Had he decided in that irritating hobbit way that the fact that Azog had killed countless men, elves, and dwarves that since he had not killed a hobbit he could not kill Bilbo? What sort of lunacy had possessed him to take on a monster with a bloody elvish letter opener?!

Yet when he had stood before Thorin, whole and hale, her anger burned bright for a moment before sputtering out and leaving nothing but relief. She had brought her burglar into her embrace and swore she would not push him away, for pushing him away didn’t seem to work for his safety. The dwarrowdam marveled at his smallness, his delicate bones and soft skin. He was so gentle and so sweet compared to her that she wanted to wrap him in her embrace forever.

Thorin did not get forever though. She was distracted by Erebor and the promise the mountain gave to her. She could reclaim it, she could restore it, and with a stable kingdom for her people she could abdicate the throne to Fili finally. She could have her freedom from lies and she would be allowed to have her beloved hobbit by her side, smithing him things that would enhance is soft beauty.

When they got to Beorn’s she took him in her arms again, growling at the bear who seemed to be far far too interested in her beloved hobbit. Bilbo had only seemed resigned to the treatment, apologizing to Beorn despite his lack of fight when it came to getting free of Thorin’s arms. He had patted her arms soothingly, flustered perhaps by the display of possessiveness, but not afraid.

It was that night in which she dragged Bilbo to her room and curled around him, clutching him to her like she had once cuddled the soft stuffed toys that her mother had made her. Bilbo brought her comfort and safety. Twas that comfort he exuded that she whispered out the truth to him.

“I’m a woman.”

Bless Bilbo’s strange hobbit soul because of instead pointing out that he had seen Thorin bathing before and knew exactly what mining equipment the dwarrowdam had he had merely hummed as he turned to look at Thorin searchingly. The hobbit stared into Thorin’s eyes, saw the vulnerability in place and very gently reached up to run his delicate hands through Thorin’s hair.

“I wish I had known earlier, I’ve been calling you all the wrong titles and that is simply rude on my part and my parents raised me better than that. Please forgive me for my rudeness, Mistress Oakenshield.”

Thorin wanted to kiss her hobbit or cry or both. She knew that hobbits were an inquisitive sort, that they asked all sorts of impertinent invasive questions at the drop of a hat. Yet in this he had simply accepted what she had said and apologized for being rude, when he hadn’t been, not really, as Thorin hadn’t said anything to him about it. How could he have been rude if he hadn’t known? It was one thing to know and to deliberately not care and the other to be unknowingly ignorant of the situation and be accidentally rude.

“You didn’t know…most of the Company save for my close kin don’t know, and those that do are sworn to secrecy. You cannot change how you refer to me in front of them. I have to keep it secret for if it became widespread knowledge I would have to abdicate, and I cannot right now. I could not do that to Fili, place the crown upon his head when he has no kingdom and just a scattered people to call his own.”

“Then when we are alone will I be able to speak to you as I ought to?”

“It would please me if you did. I do not wish for there to be secrets between us. You are my One, lying to you felt wrong and I know now I cannot drive you away back to your safe hobbit hole.”

A laugh escaped Bilbo at that, an exasperated amused chuckle that had her hobbit leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

“So that is why you acted like an angry badger towards me? You wanted me to be ‘safe’ in my hobbit hole? Thorin, you are aware that while hobbits do not have the One like dwarves do we have something quite similar? I knew who you were when you walked in my door, and while I might have tried to fight it I knew that no matter what I’d follow you across the blasted continent. What sort of Mark Mate would I be if I left you on your own? My Father followed my Mother to Rivendell after he realized that she was the infamous Belladonna Took. Thorin, bearing your mark means The Green Lady knew you would need me by your side always, that whatever roads you walked in life you’d need me to stand beside you, and that you would need my heart to be yours. I’d never be able to stay quietly at home while knowing you were heading into danger.”

Thorin felt her heart swell in her breast, so full that it was almost bursting. Bilbo had known all along who she was, and it was because of her that he had come. For all his hobbitish nature he was very nearly a dwarrow with his stubborn contrary nature. She had wanted him to stay safe at home because he was her One, and he was going to refuse staying home because she was his One.

“Where is the mark that tells you who I am?”

Bilbo laughed, tiling his head so he could press a kiss to her cheek. His strange hazel eyes were bright with amusement.

“A place you’re not going to see til we’re done courting, my Lady.” His voice was full of cheek even as she growled softly at the reply. Oh how that stirred her imagination, how it made her want to pin her hobbit down and strip him bare and examine every inch of him to see where this mark was and what it could be.

Except, he deserved better than that. She deserved better than that. They both deserved to be courted properly by the other, didn’t they? They would not be able to do it while on the road, too many dangers that could make them act hastily. The love was there, already in place and it would last, but love was not always enough to sustain the bond. No, she wouldn’t be hasty.

“Just one more reason to kill the dragon as quickly as possible.” Thorin grumbled, earning a laugh from Bilbo. She was rewarded with another kiss to her cheek, though her hobbit shifted as if he were trying to leave.

“No. Stay. Please?”

“It isn’t prop-“ Bilbo cut himself off as he looked down at her. He softened once more, running his fingers through her hair. “Will it just be sleeping and cuddling you are asking me to stay for?”

“Yes. I want you near me tonight, Bilbo. I want to wake up and know that you weren’t a dream. That you’re alive and well beside me and not dead by the hands of the Pale Orc.”

Nodding Bilbo lowered himself back to the bed, letting Thorin once again wrap around him like a strange dwarf blanket. They settled together, content to let silence reign.

Thorin may pretend to be a man, pretend to be a King, but she did not have to pretend anymore with her love. She could be truthful with that, and one day, one day soon, she would be able to be free once more to stop lying about who she was to her friends and people. With that final thought on her mind she slept, content and happy and looking forward to tomorrow.


End file.
